


tolerance

by PaintedVanilla



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Making Love, Married Couple, Non-Explicit Sex, Safeword Use, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 21:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: House wishes he could appreciate the barrage of open mouthed kisses being laid along his collarbone, but as much as he’s enjoying the sensation, it’s far too loving.





	tolerance

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo im currently dredging my way through the story arc in the third season with tritter and it is destroying my life and drowning me in anxiety so i've been writing slightly ooc hilson fluff to cope because i dont WANT them to be fighting on the show i need them to be married

House wishes he could appreciate the barrage of open mouthed kisses being laid along his collarbone, but as much as he’s enjoying the sensation, it’s far too loving. 

It _should_ be loving; House loves Wilson, Wilson loves House. Kisses planted by his husband _should_ _feel loving_. They should be able to make love without House feeling like a complete idiot, but he can’t stop himself.

“Greg.” Wilson says knowingly, because of  _ course  _ he knows. He knows every stupid little thing about House, and House can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Wilson has moved the kisses up to his neck. He’s trying to get House to relax, but it’s not working very well. 

House would feel more relaxed if he were pinned to Wilson’s desk at the hospital. Hell, he’d be more relaxed if he were pinned to  _ Cuddy’s  _ desk at the hospital. If the entire clinic could see him being taken roughly through the doors to Cuddy’s office, he might be more comfortable than he is right now. At least such a rendezvous wouldn’t have any love behind it; well, okay, yes it would, they’re married, of course they love each other, especially when they’re having sex. Wilson never fails to remind House just how much he loves him every time he’s climaxing, and House has yet to decide if it ruins or improves his own orgasm. But a quickie in a supply closet, or even just on their couch, holds less significance than whatever this is supposed to be.

_ We’re making love _ , House reminds himself, and then immediately makes a face and turns away from his husband’s kisses.

Wilson falters, pressing one last kiss to his jawline, before he says, “No one can see you, Greg.”

House doesn’t respond, even though Wilson knew exactly what he was thinking. He continues, “If you’re affectionate, nobody at the hospital will ever know.”

“You’ll know.” House snaps.

“We’re married, Greg.” Wilson says, a little bit desperately, “Please be affectionate with me, I’m your husband.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m capable of being affectionate.” House retorts.

Wilson sighs, and it’s almost a laugh, “Moan my name. Say I love you. Just,  _ look  _ at me affectionately. We’re alone.”

“And how do I know that you’re not filming?” House asks.

“We’re  _ alone.”  _ Wilson moans, and House can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or pleasure.

House wants to indulge him; wants to grab him by his face and pull him down into a kiss and tell him he loves him, he loves him  _ so much,  _ but his paranoia creeps back in and he looks away.

Wilson can sense exactly what it is; he pauses, “Hey.”

He tilts House’s head back to him, forces him to look at him, “There’s nobody here.”

“What if there was?” House asks, and his voice is teasing, but there’s still a hint of nervousness there.

“We could find out if we’re into exhibitionism.” Wilson says, “But we’re  _ alone.” _

House doesn’t want to listen to him talk anymore; he pulls him down into a kiss. It does hardly anything to alleviate his paranoia, but the soft noise Wilson makes is enough to send House’s heart racing. Wilson resumes his pace, which is achingly slow. This is proving to be far too sweet for House’s tastes; he’s torn between wanting to indulge in it and wanting to push Wilson off of him and call him an idiot.

Wilson is sensitive to his hesitation; he breaks this kiss, “Do you want to stop?”

House doesn’t answer. He spends a long time studying Wilson’s face, but he doesn’t bother to respond. Finally, Wilson sighs and starts to disentangle the two of them, “You have to tell me when you want to stop - ”

House’s hands fly up and grab Wilson by his shoulders, holding him in place. They stare at each other for a moment, then House says, “I don’t want to stop.”

“What do you want?” Wilson asks softly.

House hesitates, “I don’t know.”

It’s a lie; he does know. He wants sex, but he doesn’t want the overt intimacy of love making. He wants to be able to tolerate Wilson’s high dosage of affection, but he can’t do it in this scenario. He can’t do it for this long. He can do it for short bursts of time when they’re fully clothed and House isn’t engulfed with paranoia that they’re being watched, but he can’t do it here. The longer they lay there, the more House’s skin itches with the feeling someone is going to see him.

“No one can see you.” Wilson reminds him. He knows him too well; House has officially decided that he hates that about him. At least, he does right this second.

“You can see me.” House reminds him.

“You married me!” Wilson exclaims gently, “You can be affectionate with the man you married, can’t you?”

House hesitates, “Not like this.”

Immediately, Wilson pulls away from him. It’s not angry, or frustrated, or disappointed, emotions often directed at House from his husband. Wilson settles in right next to House a moment later, running a hand over his chest, “What’s wrong?”

If House can’t describe exactly what he feels, he can use metaphors, “The dosage of affection you’ve prescribed me is too high.”

Wilson frowns, “What?”

“Lower my dosage.” House says, which is something neither of them expected to come out of his mouth.

Wilson hesitates, then he says, “Why? Because you think you don’t deserve it?”

“Because I’m going to overdose.” House says, and Wilson blinks in surprise. House hesitates, and then he reaches over and takes Wilson’s free hand and laces their fingers together, “I want to keep taking the prescription.” he says quietly, not looking at his husband, “But it’s… too strong. I need to build up a tolerance.”

Wilson stares at him for a moment, and then a smile creeps onto his face, “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot you married.” House tells him.

Wilson gives him a kiss; it’s chaste and doesn’t last more than a few seconds, “I love you.”

“Still a bit strong.” House says, and then adds, “I love you, too.”


End file.
